


no need to speak

by downmoon



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, the boyfriend shirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3189032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downmoon/pseuds/downmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ai’s pretty, is what it comes down to, soft and delicate in a way he’s always been, Sousuke supposes, but was too wrapped up in himself to ever notice before.  He wants, for the first time in a while, but Ai’s too much like glass, in his mind, too fragile to be touched by hands as rough as Sousuke’s, so he bites his tongue and forces any wandering thoughts about Ai from his mind every time he opens the door to see his smiling face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no need to speak

**Author's Note:**

> prompt fill @downmoonwrites.tumblr.com
> 
> [tumblr](downmoonwrites.tumblr.com)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/dyefighter)

It’s a long time before he thinks of Ai as anything but _Rin’s friend_.

Like he belongs to Rin, which isn't true in the least, but there was something untouchable between the two of them, bonds formed over a strife that Sousuke wasn’t around to witness.  That kept him at a distance, kept him from ever getting too close, or close at all.  Ai was just a vague presence to him, in all his time at Samezuka, until he showed up at Sousuke’s apartment, petite and pretty, and Sousuke became _aware_.

Rin brought him over, since he’s in town for once, and Ai’s just in the next town over.  Rin tries to regale them with stories about his training and his travels, too excited to remain humble, and as enchanted as Sousuke is by his friend’s happiness, he can’t help but notice the way Ai’s gaze keeps sliding from Rin to him.  They go out for dinner, and Ai gets tipsy and chatty, Rin gets teary.  Sousuke offers them what space they can find in his apartment for the night, but Ai has an exam the next morning, and Rin has a plane to catch the day after tomorrow, and he _still_ hasn’t seen his sister.  They leave, and Sousuke thinks that’s it, a random one-evening distraction to be logged away in his fonder memories, until Ai shows up at his apartment the next weekend.

It becomes a strange little habit of theirs, their _bonding sessions_ , as he’s taken to calling them.  Surprisingly, it wasn’t awkward like he expected, the Friday evening he opened his door and found Ai standing there.  Ai smiled coyly up at him and held up the bottle of wine he’d brought.  He didn’t bother questioning it then, nor the second, the third time it happened, but when Ai showed up again, a couple of weeks after his last visit, when Sousuke’s especially vulnerable and irritated from a bad day at work, he asks.

“Why are you here?” he says, when Ai’s curling up in the corner of his couch after digging a beer out of Sousuke’s fridge.  He looks at Sousuke with wide eyes, like it should be obvious.

“You seemed lonely,” he says, simply.  Sousuke doesn’t ask again.

Ai shows up randomly, sometimes twice a week, sometimes three weeks later.  He brought alcohol only once, his excuse being he’s _a broke college student, how do you expect me to bring booze every time I need a drink?_ He brings lots of movies, though, TV series, documentaries, horror.  He and Sousuke settle on the couch, and drink and watch and occasionally talk to each other.  It’s very easy, this new friendship he’s nurturing with Ai, the two of them wedged comfortably on the couch, sharing a pile of blankets, Ai’s toes just pressing into Sousuke’s thigh.  The hard part is that friendship’s not the only thing Sousuke’s nurturing.

Ai’s _pretty_ , is what it comes down to, soft and delicate in a way he’s always been, Sousuke supposes, but was too wrapped up in himself to ever notice before.  He wants, for the first time in a while, but Ai’s too much like glass, in his mind, too fragile to be touched by hands as rough as Sousuke’s, so he bites his tongue and forces any wandering thoughts about Ai from his mind every time he opens the door to see his smiling face.

He stays the night for the first time somewhere in the fourth month, both of them having stayed up far too late, engrossed in the box set he’d brought over.  It’d be too late to catch the train, and too expensive for a cab, so Sousuke pulls out extra blankets and pillows for the couch, and finds a spare toothbrush. 

“Can I borrow a shirt?” Ai asks, after he’s brushed his teeth.  Sousuke finds him something worn and comfortable, digs around in his drawers to see if he has any pants small enough for Ai, but really, that was a futile search from the start.

“It’s okay,” he says, biting back a giggle, “I’m sure the shirt’s big enough, anyway.  Thanks.”

It’s not.

It’s not nearly big enough. 

The sleeves hang over Ai’s fingertips, and he keeps idly pushing them up his thin arms, but the hem of the shirt just covers the tops of his thighs.  It makes his head spin, his throat going dry, eyes wandering over Ai’s white legs.  He lies in bed and imagines the slightness of Ai’s body against his own, the dip of his clavicle when he breathes, the press of his wet mouth.  Sousuke bites the inside of his mouth when he comes, cutting off his cry with the taste of blood on his tongue.  He falls asleep with guilt twisting his stomach.

Ai seems to know what thoughts are flying through his head now, every time he comes over, or else crossing the line of sexual fantasy has made Sousuke hyper-aware of every move Ai makes.  His touches seem more calculated, his looks lingering longer and more intently, eyes roving over Sousuke’s form on occasion.  He brings wine again, the night before his birthday, and drinks most of it himself before Sousuke realizes.

“Hey, hey, take it easy,” he says, plucking Ai’s empty glass from his hand.  Ai follows, and presses right up against him, fingers twisted in the front of Sousuke’s shirt.

“D’you want to kiss me?” he asks in a whisper, eyes shiny and cheeks red.

“What?” Sousuke says. 

“I want you to,” he says, pulling at Sousuke’s shirt until he’s leaning forward, hovering over Ai’s small body. 

“I see the way you look at me, an’ the way you get all tensed up when I’m in your space.  I _heard_ you, the night I stayed over. ‘S alright, Sousuke.”

Ai’s mouth tastes like sweet wine, and his body is tiny in Sousuke’s hands, but they fit together well enough.  Sousuke swallows each wet gasp that falls from Ai’s mouth, bites on his red lip, his neck, that collarbone.  Ai’s fingers dig into his skin, clawing at his shoulders when Ai arches beneath him, hair damp against his forehead.  Ai twists himself into Sousuke’s arms after they’ve finished, their skin sticking with sweat and heat.  Ai murmurs “happy birthday to _me_ ” into Sousuke’s chest, and Sousuke laughs and laughs in the darkness.

Ai pulls on Sousuke’s shirt the next morning, it just barely covering the curve of his ass, fingertips hardly visible from beneath the sleeves.  Sousuke delicately peels it off him when he finds him in the kitchen making tea.  Ai stays the whole weekend and wears nothing but Sousuke’s clothes.     


End file.
